Life Is Not a Chocolate Factory
by LoverboyIsDead
Summary: Childhood friends. A girl. A boy. A bet. It all went awfully wrong.  Canon couples, rated M for language, lemons, maybe some violence. Slightly OOC.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

You know those pathetic stories when a girl falls in love with a guy who doesn't give her a minute of his precious time? The ones in which she hangs onto his every word, absorbing like a sponge everything he ever said or did, making him look like a God when he was nothing but a common mortal? The ones in which she's left, abandoned, bereft, hurt, sad, or everything combined? The ones in which he treats her like crap?

Sure you do. Everybody does.

I bet you all had a crush on a pretty little blue-eyed, blond-haired, dimples-in-his-cheeks kind of boy, the one who was always the smartest, the cutest, the-best-at-the-playground kid?

I didn't.

I never liked those boys. Actually, when I think about it, I never liked _boys_ in general. Except one.

You always have to have some exception. If you don't, there is no story.

In my case, he had green eyes. Bronze hair. No dimples... And no laughs. The laughs were rare, the real ones. Even those who were something more than a mask, they were never for me, they were always _at _me. At my stupidity and naivety, I guess.

I think I might have deserved that. After all, I was just a girl, right? There were tons of them. Tons of easy, interesting girls. The ones who drank, the ones who went out, the ones who had a nice social life. The ones who don't blush like a cripple if a boy even looks at them.

A lot of girls. Blondes, brunettes, tall ones, short ones, long legged, small waisted, beautiful, ugly, kind, jealous, pretty, cute, smart, nerdy, colorful, sensitive, nice, with their hairs curled and backs straight, their eyes and chin up, long lashed, bouncy, bubbly, energetic, curvy, slim, tight, sophisticated, confident, with their high heels and make up on.

So, it always narrows down to that one question: _Why me? _

Why not one of _them_?

Why did I have to be the one with some kind of stupid, _stupid_ bad luck that just wouldn't stop? Why did it have to be _me_? Why, fucking _why_?

I'm babbling, I know.

But, the fact is, it _was_ me. Maybe I was too dumb, maybe too naïve, I don't know anymore. I guess he was my soft spot, always. He was since that first day ten years ago. He still is. I mean, who could actually resist a green eyed, bronze-haired, nine year old boy with the prettiest smile in the world? I couldn't. I _didn't_.

I should have had.

Maybe it was some kind of my obsessive-compulsive need for love, since I never had it – not enough, anyway. Or maybe it was just my – obsessive-compulsive again – need for _him_.

You never know. It just happens. Once you are your own person, you don't want, _no_, you don't _need_ anyone, but then something small happens and it takes you away for forever. Suddenly, you belong to someone else and you don't even know it.

It happened when I was seven, when he first held my hand in his small, tiny fingers. We were kids – what did we know? But I just _knew_ that something changed then. It wasn't something big, nothing like fireworks or tidal waves, nothing like butterflies or hurricanes, just a soft, warm current that spread through my body, all the way down to my toes when a soft blush reddened my cheeks.

You just know.

And I knew.

Sometimes I really hate my intuition.

And sometimes I just hate _him_.

**First story. Don't hate. **


	2. Chapter 1

**Familiar Is What You Should Be Afraid Of **

I'll remember the sun.

The heat. The warmth. Shadows moving across my window at night, glass reflecting the moon, the sun crawling across my floor in the morning, burning my back, my face, making my eyelids blood red. The crickets, their silent murmuring. Rough and soft sways of the earth, the hollows, the waves. Little valleys covered in rusty brown dirt. The scorching hot stones, shimmering distant mirages, the stars. Yeah, the _stars_. The brightness of the sky, the clouds. Days and nights in this room. Writing. Drawing. Painting. Reading. Listening to music. Staring at the ceiling, lying on my bed over the comforter and thinking about what-ifs and what-could-have-beens. Short sleeves, girlish tops, candy colors, bathing suits, flip-flops, freezing drinks, bonfires, Ray-Bans, ice creams, sand... the ocean.

I've never even liked the beach anyway.

I was too pale. Too left out, always the white crow, always the black sheep. Always me.

I often wondered why was that. It wasn't like I was a freak or something, I was just… quiet. Not shy, not bashful, not timid, just… _quiet_. Calm. Maybe it was a consequence of my entire life, of living with my mother and not having a father, of doing everything on my own. Even now, I still don't get it.

I guess they didn't get it, too.

So fake, so petty, so dishonest. So ready to make your life miserable with no real reason, just because you wore a shirt they didn't like, or spoke about something they didn't understand. But they were just people. Humans, right? It's in our nature to make wrong choices. I wonder why I've never done that before. I wonder why I'd never hurt someone intentionally, no matter how strange or weird they were, how different. I wonder _why_.

But, you can spend your life in wondering, or you can forget it and move on. Deal with it.

The catch? Yeah, there's always one.

Moving on isn't as easy as it seems.

_Ignoring_ them isn't as easy as it seems.

It never is.

I guess that's why I've been stuck in some middle for as long as I can remember. At first, it was in between my father and my mother, and now it's in between the people at school and myself. My own personality, my wishes, my fears, my hopes, my dreams. It's not my fault, actually. But, you know, there are always some people who like to deny their guilt or place the blame on someone else – unfortunately I'm not one of those. It seems that they go through the life a lot easier than the rest of us, probably because they're ready to walk over the dead.

My Mom would say that I'm too bitter for a sixteen year old girl, and I would say that she's way too immature for a thirty four year old women. We've never even gotten along, anyway. Oh, not that I didn't love her – she was my Mom, I loved her more than anyone and anything in my world – but there were differences and obstacles between us, insuperable barriers and unyielding walls. She'd placed them there. During my childhood, there were none, but while I was growing up they appeared out of nowhere, eclipsing everything else. Everything important. There was only one bright spot in my entire childhood… later it made out to be a black hole.

_Not now, Bella._ Not now.

She wasn't ready for a baby, neither was he. But they had me, anyway. Straight out of high school. They weren't ready, not at all. But condoms break, and sometimes pills don't work. Some gipsy fortune teller would say it was destiny. I would say it was bad luck. The truth is, sometimes you can't even tell the difference.

As I was saying, my Mom and I weren't on our best terms. She worked two jobs to support me, I took care of the house. Usually, I would only see her at night, when she was too tired to speak. We would exchange pleasantries, smile at each other – tired, fake smiles – and she would go to sleep. I would stay in our living room, thinking about my day, about school, about people I despised, about the few ones I liked. It was her bitterness, probably, not mine, that made us that way. She denies it, but I'm almost one hundred percent sure that she never wanted me in her life, that I was just a burden she had to carry – she never admitted this to me, but I would caught her with that distant look in her eyes and be sure that she was regretting not having an abortion. But, you know what they say about blood…

After all, it didn't matter – I'm leaving soon, thanks to my Dad. Thanks to my dead, six-feet-under buried _Dad_.

Yeah. I've always had a strange sense of dealing with difficult situations, even if they weren't difficult at all. Like this one, for example – yeah, he was my Dad. Yeah, he died. Yeah, he got shot. Yeah, he left us a house. Well, he left _me_ a house. Mom just tagged along.

Maybe I was cruel for saying this, but I didn't miss him. I didn't even know him, how could I miss him? He was just a figure, a loamy pigeon, nothing more. I haven't even seen him for nine years – all I've ever gotten from him was a stinky paycheck every month, two weeks per year, some stupid birthday card and the house in Forks.

I _will_ live there soon.

_Again. _

I lived there during the first years of my life – when I was seven, my Mom and I moved away. She was constantly arguing with Dad, which made living with them unbearable, so one day she just packed our bags and left him. Just like that. She just… _left_. No talks, no explanations, no apologies, she just told him she was leaving, and that was it – two days later I was in the backseat of her car, going God knows where. I didn't ask. I didn't do anything. I couldn't _do_ anything, anyway. It was her choice, I was her child, I was seven, I couldn't even _choose_.

_Yeah, but she knew what your choice would be, she didn't _have_ to _ask_._

Yes, she knew. No, she didn't care.

I cried. She didn't. She didn't even look back.

I did.

I _always_ look back.

Even now.

That's the reason of our malfunction.

Her not asking.

_Nine years ago_

_Britney Spears… no… Beyonce… no… should it go here…? …or here? This wall? Or that one? It's just too pink… he said that it is. What would he say about posters? No, he plays the piano, he wouldn't like them. He's older. Should I just take them off? It's not like I'm actually listening to their music, anyway. They're just popular. I mean, every girl in my grade talks about their songs. I don't know why, really. I don't even understand the half of it, but Jessica said that they're cool. Lauren too. I overheard them while I was peeing in the school bathroom – disgusting, I know. I never liked those stinky, yucky toilets because you always have to stand and be careful not to ruin your dress or pants. Yuck. _

_Besides, I didn't want to pee myself and then be picked on. _

_As if someone would dare to say something to me anyway. _

_While I was trying so hard to make all my posters look perfect – it was nuclear physics for me back then – I heard the door open and close, and I knew that Dad was finally home. _

_"Daddy!" I exclaimed and jumped of my bed, running downstairs to see him. He was rarely home, his job took a lot of time. Later it became obvious that he was working so hard just to distract himself from everything that was happening at home._

_"There you are, Princess," he smiled and picked me up. "How was your day?"_

_"Not so bad. School was okay, I guess. The teacher said that my reading is nice, so she told me to prepare my favorite fairytale for tomorrow, you know, to read it."_

_"Really? And what did you choose?"_

_I shrugged. "I don't know. I don't like Snow White and Cinderella. They're ugly. I like Belle, so I will probably read 'Beauty and the Beast'."_

_He chuckled. "Mmmm, I knew it. She likes to read a lot, right?"_

_"Who?" I asked, playing with his thick brown hair. "Belle?"_

_"Mhm, just like you. You're my Belle."_

_"But you said I was your Princess!"_

_"Well, she _is _a princess, isn't she?"_

_I rolled my eyes. Dad's are so stupid sometimes. "She is, but only after she married Beast. I don't need Beast to be a princess."_

_He laughed. "I hope you don't, honey. I hope you won't find your Beast for a log time."_

_Huh. Silly Dad. _

_I tried to understand him, but I really couldn't – sometimes he spoke really strange things, but parents do that. _

_"What's Mom doing?"_

_"I don't know," I said conspiratorially. "I didn't see her all day."_

_Something dark crossed his features. "Really?"_

_"Aha."_

_"Did you eat something? Are you hungry?"_

_I nodded. "A little. Mom didn't make me anything."_

_His eyebrows narrowed, he frowned, but quickly smoothed it out with a smile. "Well let's see where she is, 'kay?"_

_I nodded my head and laughed when he started tickling me, so I squirmed in his arms like a fish, trying to free myself. It didn't work. It never did, he was too strong for me, so I continued laughing and wriggling away. _

_"No, Daddy, stop, stop!"_

_"What you're gonna do?"_

_"No, stop it, it tickles!"_

_"Okay, okay. But later we're going to have a tickle war, right?"_

_"Nooooo, Daddyyyy. I wanna play _house_."_

_He chuckled. "We shall see. Come on, Princess, show me where is your mother."_

_She placed me down on the floor, and I grabbed his hand and pulled him into the kitchen, where Mom stood, dish washing. _

_"Here she is," I whispered, he winked. _

_"Renee?" he called her, she didn't turn around. She always did that back then, always letting you talk to her back, as if she was so important._

_"Hi," she answered back quietly, doing her own thing and ignoring us. Some strange, cold feeling crept into the pit of my stomach, twisting my womb, and my heart started beating faster. My hands were sweating and suddenly my breaths were short, my hands were shaking. _

_I don't know why, call it premonition. _

_It was always like this when they were in the room together – tense, uncomfortable, no matter how hard they tried to hide it. Unbearable. _

_"What are you doing?" he asked, gripping my hand tighter. _

_She shrugged her shoulders, wiping off her hands on a dish cloth. Her fingers were pruney, her skin chopped, her hair dead with no shine. _

_"Cleaning up a little bit."_

_It was quiet for a few moments. _

_"_Cleaning up a little bit?_ Are you _serious_?"_

_She shrugged, again. _

_"Yes."_

This shouldn't be the way Mom and Dad talked to each other, right?

_"Renee… what?" he lowered his voice, looking around him. "I come home from work, tired of two shifts and you didn't even make us something to eat? You didn't give _Bella _something to eat? She said she didn't see you all day, and you're doing… what? Cleaning up a little bit? Are you insane?"_

_Oh no. Not again. _

_I had to fix this. I shouldn't have said anything. I had to fix this._

_I grabbed Dad's hand and pulled at it, trying to catch his attention. When I finally succeeded, I knew I had to do something to make it better. I shouldn't have said anything. It's my fault. They're fighting again and it's all my fault. _

_"But… I ate! I ate! I made myself a sandwich!"_

_I just made it worse._

_"A _sandwich_? _You_ made _yourself_ a _sandwich_?" he sounded even more incredulous. _Oh, no. _"Renee?" he turned around to face her, but all he met was her back and her dirty blond hair tied up in a bun on top of her head. _

_"I didn't have time," she replied quietly, shrugging her shoulders. It was so unlike my Mom that even I – oblivious as I was – noticed it. She was so full of life, so vibrant, colorful, alive – but that stopped. Her cheeks sunk in, she lost weight, she was tired all the time – she didn't even read stories to me anymore. _

_But _he _did, so it wasn't that hard. I knew how to read, I was seven, but it wasn't the same. _

_"Renee, what is your problem? You didn't have _time_? You didn't have times to feed your own child?"_

_"No, I didn't have time," she whispered. "I packed up our bags Charlie. I'm leaving. And I'm taking Bella with me."_

_Everything became a blur after that._

Those were the days. Just being sarcastic.

Sometimes, usually at night, I wish I'd have stayed. I wish I had been older, more mature, someone capable of making their own decisions. I wish I had known back then, it would be a lot easier. I would have stayed, I know. Everything was there, in Forks, my whole life. Everything.

My Dad loved me, he really did. Christ, he played _dolls_ with me, even when he was tired as hell from all those shifts he had to do. I guess it was normal for him to be killed by one of those shifts. He died on duty. A real hero, right?

A true _idiot._

And now he's gone. _Gone_. I still couldn't grasp the concept, honestly. One day you're here, and the next you're being eaten by the worms six feet under. It's… scary. And depressing. And it hurts. It's… as if you're here to die, like every single breath you take is the one closer to your death. Closer to dying, as if all your life is just one horrible play of death and fate and show with make up on and dead actors who have already said their lines and it's just... eerie.

And my Dad died two days ago, my Mom decided to change my entire life _day_ ago, and I wasn't sad, I wasn't lonely, I wasn't bereft, although I probably should have been.

I was _pissed_.

So, I tried to cool my temper down a bit, but it didn't help. As usual. Lately I've been angry, so _angry_, as if the world itself has turned against me and said…_ let's fuck with lil' ol' Bella, shall we_?

It all started when Renee came home from work yesterday, tired as usual. She took her gray coat off, hung it on the rack, threw her keys in a glass bowl on the table, took off her shoes and ran her hands through her blond hair, all serious and shit.

Yeah, you heard me.

_Shit_.

And she was oh-so-careful and oh-so-gentle while she was looking at me beneath her eyelashes as if she was expecting me to jump and hit her or something.

So she was all nice, candies and flowers and chocolates and unicorns and rainbows and pure _shit_, but she was my mother, and she was thirty four years old, and I couldn't change her.

And then she uttered those famous words a woman gives her husband if she's seriously angry.

"Honey, we need to talk."

Yes. _Honey, we need to talk._

_Really? Really, Mom? _

We need to talk? You remember that _now_?

I didn't say that out loud.

Anyway, she sat me on the couch after she had washed her hands and smiled at me encouragingly, as if that meant something.

"What's wrong, Mom?" I asked, completely despondent, and so fucking _tired_.

She looked a bit uncomfortable, not in her element, as if she found herself in a strange house with strange people she didn't know. As if I wasn't her flesh, her blood, her _daughter_, as if I were a stranger she had to deal with, like a doctor who had a duty to tell his patient's family that their loved one is dying.

"It's okay, honey, everything's fine," she smiled, like she was talking to a hysterical baby who wouldn't stop crying, trying to pacify her. Her throat constricted. "I just wanted to talk to you about something."

I raised my eyebrow. "Oh, really?" It came out a bit more sarcastic than I intended to.

She sighed. "Bella…"

"Okay, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, go on."

I wasn't sorry.

She gave me a meaningful look, trying to say that I needed to calm down, and smiled a bit.

"Well… I talked to my boss today, and quit my job because I found a better one."

It took my mind all three seconds to respond to that piece of information.

_She quit her fucking job? _

"What? Are you insane? How do you think we'll be able to pay the bills and everything?"

"Calm down. This is better for us. I talked to some people, I found a job in Seattle."

"In _Seattle_?"

"Yes. And I thought we could move in there, somewhere… but then… this thing with Charles happened, and… well, I thought we could…"

_Spit it out, Mom. You will need to do it anyway. _

She was losing herself, which was often – when she wasn't able to face her problems, she would start trailing off or stuttering, or muttering or mumbling and murmuring, but you just get used to it. It' Renee, these are her defense mechanisms, and it's probably the best for you to listen to her patiently and readily so she would come around.

It's funny how _I_ had to wait for _her_ to come around. Shouldn't I be talking to her about my first kiss, about boys, about sex, about school, about friends?

About all those things I've never had?

But no, I had to listen to my mother and be a good girl because… I don't even know why anymore. There was something obvious she was trying to tell me, but my mind strangely played with the information, twisting and distorting it, as if it was the most interesting toy in the world. As if it was a bubble gum with no shape, no color, no taste. I couldn't figure her out. My _mother_, and I couldn't figure her out.

"What, Mom? What could we do?"

Silence.

I was met with silence, _again_.

This was often. Whenever she had tried to put herself together, silence ensued. It was normal for her, normal for _us_. I really don't know when we became so dysfunctional.

"I was thinking about Forks," she finally whispered. "I was thinking about going back there again, you know. We… I mean, _you_… _you_ have a house there, so we wouldn't be forced to pay the rent… and the money wouldn't be an issue anymore… and yes, I will have to drive around a lot, I mean, its Seattle, and Forks, but… you can do it alone, you've been doing it for as long as I can remember, Bella. It would be the best for us, and you will be able to…"

See _him_.

Yes, I _know_.

It's funny how a sixteen year old girl is still so… hung up on a boy she once knew, it's really strange. Weird, even. Pathetic. But it isn't, once you've seen the bigger picture. That boy taught me how to read, how to draw, how to write, that boy was the reason I broke my arm all those years ago, the only one who has ever tried to do something for me, to keep me away from vultures, so to speak. Not my father, certainly not my mother, but an eight year old boy with green freckles in his eyes, copper-haired head and silly looking teeth with insufferable desire for candies.

"I know, Mom," I answered sharply. "But you could at least talk to me about this before you decided to do it. No, before you actually _did_ it, you know?" _It would be nice to feel important, just this once. _

But no. Some strange sense of déjà vu washed over me, as if this happened before – and I realized with such a stunning clarity, that it _did_. It happened when she grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the house, kicking and screaming, pinching and fighting and pulling and plucking without a word, without my consent, without anything.

If she didn't do it, maybe I'd still have a father. Maybe I'd have something more with him than two weeks per year in this hot, heated town. Maybe I would have _something_. And maybe he wouldn't be dead.

"We'll talk about this tomorrow," she sighed and looked at me, all sickly looking, pale, sunken, hollow. A shell of a person she'd once been.

Yeah, Mom. We'll talk about this _tomorrow_. Just like we always do.

And tomorrow will become tomorrow again, and tomorrow again, and again, and again, until I forget what I wanted to tell you. Like the first time we _talked_ when you decided to grab my hand and take me away with you, searching for better life.

Look how that came out. Look at our better life. Look at _me_.

Just this _once_.

She didn't.

"Yes, Mom," I whispered, giving in and trying to smile. "Sure. We will talk about this tomorrow."

She smiled too, relieved, and placed her hair behind her ears.

"Thank you, sweetie. I'm really tired now, it's been hell today… There was just so much work… I have to go tomorrow, too, to pick up my things… I promise you, this is for the better, trust me… everything will change when we get there, we'll have more money, more time… I won't need to work two jobs anymore, the salary is quite good… Bella, everything will be alright, I promise…"

I felt numb. I just nodded my head, smiling for her, and let her talk about all those things we will have when we leave this place.

_She said the same when we left Forks, didn't she, Bella? She said you will be able to see him, she promised you will call, she swore you will have some contact with him, she even said he will come to see _you_. _

And did she make any of that happen?

No, she didn't.

But it wasn't the same, it really wasn't.

Now, I'm not leaving something or someone _behind_ – I'm just leaving this apartment, nothing more and nothing less. Now, it's not about the unknown – I've been in Forks, hell, I lived there and those were the best moments of my life, the best memories, just before everything fell apart. So, maybe it's not that bad, right? You shouldn't be scared of the things you know.

Just like all those paranormal things like vampires and werewolves and fairies and unicorns and centaurs and world-of-warcraft things every kid is afraid of, until they grow up and realize that nothing's as it seems, and that those are the stories they will tell to their own children just to scare them, to make them listen like their parents did to them.

I was so full of shit.

Because, a year later, I found myself thinking about all those safe little familiar things that used to make my childhood happy and scary at the same time, like _him_ for example, and one single thought stuck to my brain in a vice grip, shadowing everything I once thought I knew.

_The familiar is what you should be afraid of. _

**A/N: A HUGE thanks to all of you who reviewed. You really made my day. **

**And yes, I am definitely continuing this story. **

**Beta?**

**Thoughts?**


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: I'm sorry for the wait, I had some really important things to take care of. But now I'm here, and I'm writing again. :D Anyway, these chapters will go slower because I'm still a bit stuck with the beginning of the story, but I do have a plan, so don't worry. I know where I'm going with this. **

**Anyway, this is where the story earns it's rating. M. Not so scary, but… yeah. **

**And we all know you pervs like some lemonade. **

**On with the show. **

**2. Some People Just Can't Take a Hint**

I was sitting in our living room, watching TV when my Mom entered – restless, as always, and ran straight to the kitchen. She woke up late – I tried to wake her up, but she said 'five more minutes', and fell asleep again. And I tried to wake her up _again_, 'five more minutes' later, but she did the same and I just lost my patience. So now she'll be late for work.

I heard a chair scraping against the tile floor and guessed she had to eat breakfast I'd already made – just like every day. It was on me to do the cleaning, cooking, paying the bills, going to the grocery store, on and on it goes.

_Yes, but she works two jobs to support you, so be grateful. _

I know. I _am_. But it's kinda hard sometimes, you know? Not feeling like a kid. The last time I felt like that was in Forks, with him, all those years ago. And it's been a long, long time.

_Oh, be normal for a minute. _

I'm trying, fucker. I really am trying.

"Good morning. Going to work?" I asked before she had a chance to skip through the door without saying good morning or explaining what she's up to, not taking my eyes of the TV.

She cleared her throat. "Good morning," she replied, a bit embarrassed, probably realizing how rude she seemed. "Yeah, I have to pick up my things and clean the desk… take my last salary. You'll clean up the house a bit before I come home? We can pack our bags when I get here, that okay with you?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, sure. I'll wait up for you, and we'll see… well, well see. I need to pay the bills for this month, so…" _so leave me some money. _

"Sure. I left you some money on the kitchen table, it will be enough. You're not going to school today?"

_Mom, if you'd look at the clock just once, you'd now that I'm already _not_ at school. _

"No. Like you said, we need to do some things around here. You called school in Forks?"

"Yes, yesterday at work. We'll have to go there for an appointment anyway, but they said there is no problem with you enrolling there. The school's not big, but… I guess you'll find someone to be friends with."

"Yeah. Sure." _If _he_ didn't move away or died of drug overdose or something, I hope we will be friends too. Again._

"It's going to be cool out there, I guess. We haven't visited for quite a long time."

_Yes, Mom, and whose fault is that?_

I didn't have to say it out loud, she understood everything.

And she didn't say anything.

"Ummm… okay. I'll be back in a couple of hours, and then we'll talk, okay? Just… take the trash out and clean this up, and then we'll start packing our suitcases."

"Okay," I mumbled in return. "Se ya soon, Mom."

"Bye, Bella."

"Bye," I answered, and then yelled before she went out, "And lock the door!"

She did – I heard the lock clicking once, twice, three times, before her car rumbled and she drew herself down the street.

Sighing, I sat back into the chair and turned back to watching TV, the marathon of some forensic show, and surprisingly… I got hooked. But it didn't stop me from cleaning up the house, or paying the bills, or running around town and doing whatever needed to be done. I got used to this, and being out helped me clear my mind, helped me refocus – until I finished everything and came back into the empty house, locked the door and went straight to my room, deciding not to wait for my mother to come back – I needed this. I needed to pack my things and let go of everything that I needed to let go, even though there weren't many things.

It's not like I had some real friends to mourn, or places that were special to me. It's not like I had a serious relationship or someone I loved, so I honestly had no reasons to be so bereft or sad. And I wasn't – I think. It was just my fear holding me back. My insecurities, doubts, fears… it wasn't easy, moving out, going away. Especially if there's an history you're coming back to, like I am about to do.

What's the point of leaving if you're just going to come back a few years down the road?

Ask my mother. Ask my dead father, ask our bills, ask her job. Ask the house he left me, ask our landlord. But not me. Don't ask _me_, because I really don't know. And I don't know how I'm going to cope with this.

Forks is a small town. So small that everyone knows each other, that your closest neighbor will probably know what you've had for breakfast, or where you've been for lunch. And the people… most of them think they have some right to mingle in your family business – I remember, when Mom and Dad were divorcing, they were just so… pushy. Always asking about it, always thinking about what's going on, and so on. Exhausting. Tiring.

_Mind your own business, would you?_

But that was not the only problem. If I remembered good – and I think I did – Charlie – my Dad – was respected there. Over the years he became the police Chief, and that wasn't meaningless in a town like Forks. And after his… heroic death, he probably became an icon of bravery, or something similar.

And I was his daughter, his _only_ daughter, and I was coming back with my mother – a sinner, they called her – to study, to live there – and it won't be easy, I'm aware of that fact. I'm not stupid, thank you very much.

But, on the other hand, if _he's_ there…

Stop it. Stop thinking like that. You don't know him anymore, you don't know who he is now. You know nothing about him. What if he's a drug dealer? A baby killer?

_What? Drug dealer? Baby killer? The boy who read me stories and protected me in Forks Day Care? No… no way. He was too innocent for something like that. _

_Was_ being a key word, idiot.

Yeah… I'm rambling, I'm well aware. I guess I am a romantic, after all my denial of that simple fact. Really, I've never read those romantic books like 'Wuthering Heights' or 'Jane Eyre' . Actually I have, just so I could talk about how little I like them, but… who reads that crap, honestly? It's only a classic because it was written in the nineteenth century. _Really_. If you want to read a good book, read 'Brothers Karamazov', 'Catcher in the Rye', 'When Pumpkins Blossomed', 'The Bridge on the Drina', or something. Herman Hesse, for Christ sake, not some pathetic love story. I'm not saying that there's no good love stories out there, 'cause there is, but… 'Wuthering Heights'? The same as every love story out there. So I'm not that romantic, you see? And I will continue denying it, so… Denial _is_ a river in Egypt, after all.

I took all my stuff out of the closet and put them on my bed, thinking about starting this. My clothes weren't fancy, but I wasn't dressing like a hobo either – true, there was no crazy colors, no frilly or girly stuff – a bunch of gray, dark blue, light blue, washed, ripped, not ripped, skinny jeans and even more shirts, usually the ones in black, dark blue, red or gray. There were a few things in brighter colors, but I never wore them, anyway. Some sweaters, fancy and not-fancy ones, shorts', Nirvana, Muse and Kings of Leon shirts, pajamas and hoodies – no skirts, no dresses. I wasn't comfortable in them, always felt like something was itching me if I ever wore one. I realized I had quite a few of-the-shoulder shirts and purposely holey sweaters – who'd have known? And a lot of Converses. And lots of jewelry – believe it or not, I really liked rings and bracelets, sometimes even necklaces – and it was all metal, wood, leather or silver – no yellow gold stuff, I hated that. And earrings, a lot of them, too, because I pierced my ears few months ago – four holes – one on the left, and three on the right ear.

_I don't even know why I'm bothering you with this, but I have to. I don't know why, I just do. _

Before I could just put everything in my suitcase and try not to look at all those sentimental things I had laying around my room, like books and movies and candles and toys, I heard the doorbell ring and ran down the stairs to open the door, hoping it was Mom because I wanted to get this over with, but my somewhat good mood went down when I saw the person standing on my doorstep.

"Oh. It's you. Hi."

I don't know why I sounded so artificial, formal, stiff. It's just him. No one important, no one worth looking at – and still, I'm completely surprised and… kinda annoyed, honestly. I'm in the middle of packing, I really didn't want anyone to disturb me. It's an emotional experience as it is, I don't need someone bothering me.

_You're such a bitch, Bella, shut up. The guy just came here to see you, why are you being so difficult and reading too much into things? Suck it up and move on, it's just a few hours. Bitch. _

Yeah, I guess I am. A bitch, I mean. I have no idea what's going on with me. Honestly, if I wasn't a virgin, I'd think I was pregnant. My emotions were all over the place, but I decided to make them wait – I had more important things to deal with, as in right _now_.

"Hi," he answered, a bit tight, and looked me over, up and down, searching for something. "You okay?"

I narrowed my eyes, confused. Was there something on my face? I'm actually very good at hiding my feelings and emotions, so what did he see? Fear? Anger? Confusion? Because I felt every single thing. "Yeah, sure, why wouldn't I be?" I replied, moving to the side, trying to be more open and polite. Well, not _polite_, but… friendly. This is probably the last time I'll ever see him. "Wanna come in?"

He nodded and entered the house. Closing the door behind him, I showed him to the living room.

"Sit. Wanna drink? Water, soda, coke, beer…?"

"No, thanks. I just came by, you know, to see you. You weren't at school today, so I became a bit worried… Jane too."

"Oh," I frowned. "You didn't have to. I mean, not that I don't want to see you, or something, just… everything's fine, I'm okay. I'm packing my bags, so to speak," I murmured and sat beside him – in the faraway corner, just so you know. I had my reasons.

"Yeah, I heard the rumors," he mumbled into his chin, picking onto his already chewed nails.

"Rumors?" I asked suspiciously, raising my eyebrow. What rumors? What could they possibly say about me?

He shrugged. "Not much," he said quietly, somewhat uncomfortable. "Just that you're leaving… and that your Dad died."

I drew in a sharp breath. They knew my Dad died? Already? But how? Who told them?

"Yeah…" I whispered. "He did, but… who told you that?"

He squirmed for a few seconds under my stare. "Ummm… I called you yesterday, you know, to see if you wanna hang out, but your Mom answered the phone," he explained. "She told me that you were out, and that your Dad… you know," he said nervously, as if he was afraid that I'm going to be angry.

Oh, and I _was_. But not because of him – my mother was to blame for my rage. Now, and every single time. How can she say that to my friends? She has no right to do something like that! Why does she needs to mess with my life, to intervene, to mingle all the time? I never asked something like that from her, ever!

_Why don't you have more friends, Bella? Why don't you go out more? Why don't you find a boyfriend? You're in your room all the time, writing, drawing, listening to music… all the time! It's not healthy, honey. Why don't you hang out with Riley? He's a good kid. I just saw Heidi's mother yesterday, she's such a lovely lady. Why don't you call her daughter? She lives here, down the street, you could be best friends, she's so polite!_

_Polite? _If you knew what she did on a daily basis, you wouldn't be talking about polite. You would tell me to stay away from her. But you _don't_ know, because you never ask. You just pretend you care.

Why don't you do this, why don't you do that… ether that, or ignoring. It's always like that with us, and I… I don't want that. I want my mother. I want my _Mom_.

_Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic. _

Oh, shut up.

"Yeah, I know," I sighed, pushing everything away, down inside. "He got shot. Some guy killed him while he was trying to stop a bank robbery. Heroic, right?" I said sarcastically, and he detected my tone – and choose to change the subject. I could almost see the little wheels turning in his head, trying to find an out.

And after a minute of unbearable silence, he did. He finally found an exit, and it made me like him even less.

Because his posture suddenly changed to cocky, and he became the asshole I always knew. For a minute, I wanted to strangle him. He looked as if he was up to something, and suddenly, I got suspicious.

"So… you're leaving?" he was sitting there, hands in his pockets, with disheveled dirty blond hair and grey eyes, searching any possible way to look 'cool'. He was just fake, with all his smiles and beneath-the-eyelashes-look. And his lashes weren't even that long. But whatever, his problem – it's his problem that he puts too much gel into his hair, his problem that he smokes just for the sake of his friends, so he just holds a cigarette between his fingers never actually taking a drag, his problem that he's so jealous and petty and fucking Mamma's boy. But it is _my_ problem that I tolerate him. _My_ problem, and _my_ fault.

I sighed and looked at my feet, trying to inconspicuously roll my eyes. Or make him stop that weird twitching smile he thinks is cool. "Yeah," I mumbled, not that willing to talk about the subject. I still haven't decided if I had liked my Mom's decision or not – I wasn't sure about anything anymore.

"When?"

I shrugged, thinking about his question. I knew it would be soon, because we had a funeral to attend to – we couldn't leave Charlie to rotten there, anyway. Mom wanted to cremate him because it would save us some time – and because she was an idiot for stating those things as rightful reasons, but she was like that. Stupid sometimes, not caring about Charlie's wishes even if he stated – loud and clear, mind you – in his will that he wanted to be properly _buried_. "I don't know. Soon, I guess. With everything that happened…" I shuddered. I'm still not so sure that everything has entered my thick skull – somehow, nothing changed. For the better, anyway. Nor for worse.

Was I a psycho? When I think about that, maybe – they didn't feel anything.

But I did. I felt anger, and frustration, and angst, and panic, and rage, and fury, and a myriad of other unnamed emotions. A ticking bomb, just waiting to snap.

"Yeah, I can imagine." _No, you can't. You don't even know what I feel or how I cope with everything. _

Silence. Atmosphere is always tense around him. I'm not sure whose fault that is – his or mine, but it was easier that way. You can't get hurt if you don't let people close enough. Not even my own mother knew me, so why would he? Why would I try to stifle the tension, when I didn't even care about the person behind it?

"How are you coping with everything?"

I shrugged. "Good, I guess. It's not like I'm suicidal or something, it's not like I'm crying every night… I mean, I didn't even know him, you know? How can I be sad when I didn't know him at all?"

"He's your father."

I shook my head. "No, he isn't. He stopped being my father seven years ago."

_Go Bella, defense mechanisms. Stupid psychology. Bones, I totally agree with you, even though you're completely nuts sometimes…_

He sighed. "Bella…"

"Stop it."_ I don't want to talk about it. _

"Come here," he said quietly and tapped the spot next to him.

No thanks. I was too tired for all of this, especially _that_.

Riley's been my friend since the begging of my first year in high school – actually, he just tagged along. Those lines between friendship and something more were blurred a bit on his side, making me tired of his advances, tired of my own rejections – I didn't want this. I had no nerves for this, I wasn't ready, I didn't want to. I didn't have time. It was irritating how he would always find some excuse to touch my hand or slip his arm around my waist, as if that meant something. As if _he_ meant something.

Even now, in my house, days before my departure, he had to ruin everything. He just _had_ to. Every single time, every single movie, every single show, every single concert – all those events filled with almost kisses and almost touches. The ones I didn't want.

_One year ago_

_Kings of Leon concert. Use Somebody. Closer. Sex on Fire. Jane. Riley. Alec. Heidi. Me… and Riley again, half drunk, with his breath stinking of cheap beer and his jacket smelling like cigarettes. And not the nice ones. The heavy scent mingling with the smell of his sweat and bodies around us, suffocating. Smothering. Especially to me. _

_Heidi's arms around Alec, his lips on her neck, and soon, his tongue in her mouth. Hands grabbing everywhere, moans, no shame. His clammy fingers on her breast, in front of us, she whimpers. Her nipples are sticking out of her dress, she doesn't care. Alec is touching her. He groans into her mouth, tongue tracing her jaw line. His palm wanders down her dress, in between her legs. _

_We're fifteen. We're young. We're kids. He's rubbing her. She arches her back. I watch, mesmerized. I never saw something like that before, only on TV, and even there it was not so graphic, so alive. But their kissing is not passionate, not loving, not careful – they're just two horny teenagers experimenting on this concert because their parents are not around. In front of us, in front of everybody – it's not like they care. No feelings involved._

_Jane is staring at them, somewhat disgusted, and someone whispers my name in my ear._

"_Bella."_

_I shiver, and it's not good. It's crawling, it's scratching a sharp nail on a window. Chalk on a blackboard. Goose bumps down my spine, and…_

Riley.

_Music is loud, bodies are moving, Heidi is moaning, I want to discover everything. I'm a girl, I want someone, I have no one. And I don't want the ones I can have. I never met someone to whom I'd give a permission to touch me – that's when I realized, with strange conviction, that I'm not like Heidi. I'm not going to let someone touch me for the first time here, in public. I'm not going to do that with a person I don't love. _

_He's getting closer, he's behind me. Touching me, or at least trying to do so. Awkward, clumsy hand reaches my neck. The smell of his breath, his jacket, it's nauseating. Hands dragging down my back, getting closer to my right hip, and down…_

No.

_I grab his hand before he has time to do anything. _

"_Stop it," I hissed. "Get away from me." _

"_But Bellllaaaaa…" he slurred, rolling his eyes. Tonight he drank his first beer and smoked his first cigarette. And I was a good girl, I didn't belong there, with him, in that dark and suffocating place. "Why are you being such a prude? Let me touch you, I can make you feel good, I promise."_

You, with your short, chopped fingers and smelly breath? _I don't think so. _

"_Leave me alone, Riley. Go away!" I yelled, trying to overpower the loud music. I flinched and pushed him away from me. _

"_C'mon, baby…"_

_No, I already said no! I'm not your baby! I don't want _you_ to touch me, I don't even like you! You're a sleazy, two-faced, slimy asshole with ugly, chubby fingers and hungry look, and I. Don't. Want. You. To. Touch. Me!_

_I'm too much of a chicken shit to say anything like that, though, and that's why Jane had to intervene. _

"_Leave her alone, Riley, don't be an ass," she growled, and that made him stop. You never mess with Jane, and he knows that. Everybody does. _

_And there it is… a cold shower on my head. _

_I'm not like Jane. I'm not like Heidi. _

_I'm not fierce. I'm not wild. I'm not free. _

_I'm just a girl. _

_But that night, I wanted to feel something _more_. I wanted to _be_ something more. _

_I wanted to see myself clearly, with no obstacles. I wanted to be someone else, someone brave, someone worthy of affection. I wanted to know myself, what I liked, what I didn't. All those spots on my body I never knew, to feel all those things I've never felt. Like Heidi that evening. Just like her… but alone. _

_After the concert, when I came home, I realized it was empty. My Mom left me a message on our kitchen table, just one word: 'Working'. _

_I already knew that, but it felt kinda nice not to feel alone for once. Not to feel dejected or refused. It was… nice. Just nice. Nice to know that someone remembers you. _

_I went upstairs, to my room, and went straight to the bathroom, washed my hands, let my hair down, jumped under the shower, shuddered when it was too cold, made it warm and relaxed, thinking while washing my hair. _

_I didn't want Riley, I didn't want a relationship, not yet. I wasn't ready for… crotch slash breast fondling in the crowd on some kind of a concert. That wasn't me, not yet. But… maybe I was ready for knowing myself, for exploring, for learning?_

_I trembled. I shook. I shuddered. But yeah, I was ready. I showered in silence, thinking about how I want to do this. I want to see myself, I want to learn. I want to _know_. _

_After the shower, I dried my hair with a towel and left the bathroom, encouraging myself. _

You're ready, Bella. You're ready._ So ready that I barely opened the door, my fingers shaking so hard. But it didn't matter._ Nothing mattered now_, I decided. _

_I closed the window and dragged down the curtains – it was night, no one was around, but… I felt secure like this. Alone, in my room, locked inside my home with no one to barge in here, not even my own mother. _

_I stood in front of a mirror, looking at my naked body, trying to make a decision about myself. _

_My hair was really dark, long, with reddish, brown, black and chocolate hues in it even though I never had it highlighted, and it was soft, and thick, a bit curly, dark just like my eyes were. And my eyes… dark brown with black dots inside them, a really nice shade of brown, not dim, not shady, but… clear, sharp, almost black. And they were big, not overly huge, not goggled, but big. My lips were full, red. Maybe because I always bit them, maybe because they just were. Pale, white skin, soft, warm, all over me. _

_But my body… I wasn't that happy with my body, I don't know why. I mean, my stomach was flat, and I had nice hips, long neck, thin waist, full breasts, nice collarbones. My legs weren't long, but they weren't short either, they were… fine? Normal, shapely, nice. But there was always something wrong, and I didn't know what. Even if I had a chance to replace myself with Heidi's model-like body, I would never do that, so I couldn't quite find the reason for my insecurities. _

_It's true, I wasn't like those girls from magazines – my body wasn't that tight, that tall or skinny – yes, my skin was soft, and pale, but had it's own imperfections – a few small, faint stretch marks over my thighs, dating from the beginning of my teenage years, few scars over my knees from falling when I was a kid, little birthmarks sprinkled here and there, one between my breasts, one just above my bottom, two on each end of my thighs, right above my knees, one on my hip, and few of them along my ribs, and they made me insecure. I was too soft, slender, yes, but too soft – then again, I was here to learn and accept. It won't happen tonight, but maybe in the future. _

_Touch, learn, remember, use. For the future._

_So I did. _

_I touched. _

_I learned. _

_I remembered…_

_But I still have to use it. One day. With someone who's worth it. _

_I touched my face, my lips, my neck, tangled my fingers into my hair, turned around, watched my back, the curve of my behind, my thighs, my knees…_

_I touched my breasts, cupped them with my hands, trying to feel all those pleasant feelings I saw on TV – or with Heidi – but it didn't come. My nipples puckered, turned dark pink, but there was no tingling, no prickling, no enjoyment. I could have touched my arm and felt the same. _

_I tried again, slower this time, watching myself, looking for any trace of hidden pleasure, deep promises, but it felt… weird. Foreign. Still no feelings, but the one of embarrassment. Why am I doing that? What am I trying to do with this? Touching myself…_

_Slower. Slower still. Circles around my nipples, my hands touching, exploring, probing… and goose bumps, not because of the feelings cursing through me, but because of the mental images of what I was doing. Touching myself. _

_I'm soft. I'm warm. My breasts fit into my hands, not too big, but not too small, either. Tugging, squeezing, pulling. Blush spread down my stomach, to the soft patch of hair between my legs. _

_Should I shave myself?_

_No… why would I do that? It's not like someone will see me soon. _

_I threw my hair back, just to see how it feels on my skin. _

_Tickles, gentle touches… sighs coming out of my mouth, my hands still massaging. I imagine. I dream. I create. Someone is touching me, someone other than me. Strong, long, lean fingers. Tall body behind me, around me. Warm breath on my neck, skillful fingers on my skin, replacing mine, tongue sliding down my shoulder. Sighs ripping out of my mouth, heart racing inside my chest, slamming onto my ribcage, pumping blood… I'm so warm. Touch me. Kiss me. Show me everything. I want you. _

_Shook my skin with your fingers, show me. Teach me. I want to learn. My breasts, oh my God… tingling. It's there. I don't know how, but it's there. And hands are cupping, massaging, touching my flesh, my bones, my blood, everything all at once, and his fingers are nimble, and talented, and skilled, and all I ever wanted, and… he's going lower, down the pale lane of my flat stomach, touching my hip bones, sliding to the patch of dark, dark brown hair, almost black, pulling, and I sigh, and I moan, and I _touch, _and I sit on the bed, because I can't do this while I stand. _

_Warm. Warmer. Wet. _So_ wet. Oh God… and I… he… _he_ found that place… that little nub, and rubbed it, and circled it, and traced it, and… and my head fell back, and my back arched, and a moan left my lips, and fingers spread the wetness around, and I was swollen, and it hurt… it hurt _sogood_. _

_Touch me. _

_A finger slid inside, carefully, skillfully, searching, probing, and… stop. It hurts. And it stopped, pulled back, and touched again, not going too deep, not wanting to rip the barrier inside. Legs spread further apart, moans became whimpers, fingers moved faster, rougher. Yes. Just like that. Grab my hair, pull it back. Yes. You can be rough. You can bite my neck and leave a mark, I would love that. If only you were real…_

_Faster. _

_Hand moving vigorously inside, the other one twisting, pulling, plucking, massaging, touching… my breast. Inside, further inside. Open your lips, let out a hiss… yes, you're listening. _

_Harder. I want more. _

_Back arched of the bed, hips furiously meeting a hand, a finger, swaying, rubbing, stroking. And more tingles. So many, so many, so many… it burns. Yes, touch me, show me, teach me… yes, I'm yours, whoever you are. _

_And an orgasm. _

_The first one. _

_Eyes shut tightly, body went rigid, fingers slammed furiously, whimpers got louder, muscles squeezed and released. Moans quieted, whimpers ceased, fingers stopped. A sigh of relief, I opened my eyes…_

_I was alone. _

_And still, I was just a girl. _

_And my insecurities never went away. _

I never knew what he really wanted from me – a real relationship, or a quick fuck. I didn't care. I was fifteen back then, and now I'm just a year older. Too young to do something like that, too young to be like Heidi, too young to be so… tired.

_Tired_ was the word of the day.

"C'mon, Bella… one kiss. Before you leave," his voice was pleading, almost begging, and he was getting closer. I flinched and stepped away.

"Riley, _no_."

_When will you get the fucking hint? Do I need to spell it out for you? Do I have to draw a fucking picture of a big fat NO? Or do you understand it in plain English?_

Of course I didn't say that. Of course I'm a coward._ Of course _I can't do anything about that.

He sighed, shaking his head. Offended. "Why?"

Yes, really. Why?

_Because you're a fucking pedophile, that's why. Thinking about a nine year old boy and not being able to have a boyfriend because of him, wondering how he is now, wondering what he looks like. That's why. _

And because I don't like you. At all.

It's true – even if I wasn't shallow like most of the girls in my class, I wasn't an idiot either – I knew what I liked and what I didn't. And I really didn't like Riley. Physically, mentally, emotionally… _at all._ I never liked those blond haired, blue eyed beach boys – somehow, they seemed stupid. Yes, I am well aware that it's not fair to classify people like that, but there were too much teenage shows that made boys like that somewhat dull. I mean, they aren't, but… I can't explain it. I just don't like the visual, you know? The muscle men, the jocks, it's all so… frivolous, so simple, no layers, no secrets.

_And what would you like, a troubled geek? _Yeah, as if.

But I couldn't explain that to him, could I? It would be hurtful and awfully rude. So, I presented him with the only answer that, at the same time, totally made sense and was completely meaningless.

"Because."

"That not an answer."

_Yes, I know. I just hoped you would let it go for a while. _

I clenched my teeth, losing my grip. "If my rejections for the past year are not an answer, I don't know what is," I replied harshly, coldly, but that finally made him understand.

As always, people don't understand politeness – you must be completely straightforward if you want them to comprehend some things. Just like at school – your professors usually don't understand you until you yell, throw a tantrum or cry. Tears and shouts are some kind of an universal language today – and I realized that pretty soon, mind you. Pity I don't speak that language.

He lowered his eyes. "Yeah, I guess you're right." He said, getting up. _That fast?_ See, I was right all along. Some harsh language, few cold words and a little bit of reality – and they get it immediately. Sad, but true. "See ya around, B."

_Do not feel guilty, do _not_ feel guilty. There is no reason to. _

"_Bella_. Not _B_."

_Not B, okay. Just… not B. _B is reserved for someone else.

"Yeah, whatever, _Bella._ Call me when you get there."

"Maybe."

_And maybe not. _

And as he was leaving my room and me behind, one thought really stuck to my brain.

_No, probably not._

**A/N: So… how are you liking the story so far? What do you think about Bella? Riley? Edward? Not that there's much of him, but… you know. It's nice to hear your comments, although there are much more alerts than reviews, but it's all nice. :) Anyway, who reads this crap? It would be nice to know.**

**By the way, I still need a beta… :D**


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sorry, I know it's been a while. If you want to hear me out, great, if you don't, that's okay, too. No, seriously. I've had about five chapters written, seventy pages in word, but my FUCKING computer decided it was the best to catch a fucking bug and fuck around with the system and my files. So I got stuck in an infinite loop. Blue screen. And before I could remove my files, system crashed. Hard. So I had to reinstall it and try again – of course, when I did it, FF Net decided it was his turn to fuck with my sanity. I _can_ log in, but I can't do anything with it apart from sending personal messages, reviewing and responding. No updating my profile or a chapter, not even now, so I'm updating from another computer before I solve the problem with mine. I almost abandoned this story because, let's face it, seventy pages is a lot, but then came a nice (Abby Lynn's) review that pulled my head out of my ass. So, thank you. Really. I'm writing again thanks to you. **

**And, by the way, I think you've rushed with the 'no grammatical errors' comment :D there are a few, but I'm trying, I truly do, because I absolutely HATE misspelling and grammatical errors, too. English is not my first language and is very different, so I do have problems sometimes. Bear with me, it's my first story after all. :D And now, I can't even edit my chapters because of the stupid FF Net. -.-'**

**So, there you go, I'm ending my rant for those of you who are actually reading this. Read on, and please tell me what you think. **

**Merry Christmas!**

* * *

><p><strong>3. Of Skeleton Keys And Shitty Locks<strong>

After Riley left, it was like the huge weight was lifted off of my shoulders. I felt lighter, and the house, though empty, didn't smother me anymore – not like he did, anyway. It's not like he was a bad person, or anything, he was just stubborn and pushy with that stupid motto – _the_ _persistent will fuck, not the pretty _- and he as sure as Hell lived by it.

It made my life harder, especially when he was drunk, but it wasn't like I was the only one he treated that way – he would fuck everything female with two legs, but the others were kinda graceful and successful at avoiding it. I was awkward and clumsy with those kinds of relationships – a bit crippled, true, but I guess it was a consequence of not having a male role model in my life, not including Renee's previous boyfriends.

Sure, I wasn't an ugly looking girl, I knew that – I wasn't completely oblivious. It was easy for me to see that I was more beautiful than almost every girl at school, but it didn't mean I had to flaunt it or act on it – I preferred it this way. I loved to be quiet, I wasn't an attention seeker, that was so very obvious – and one of the things that Jane, my best friend here, despised.

"_You're completely insane,"_ she would say. _"If I had your face, I would have already snagged Alec from that bitch, Heidi, but I don't have it, so I have to tolerate the two of them."_

I would laugh and tell her that she was crazy, because she was – Jane was beautiful, fierce, strong, with no actual sense of self worth_ at all_. I blame her mother for that – she compared herself to Jane all the time, saying how prettier or more capable she was when she had been her age, and Jane, even though strong, couldn't push all that away and soon became insecure for no reason whatsoever. As for Alec, he was a nice guy, apart from sticking his cock into a bitch like Heidi – but I guess it had an explanation, too – I mean, Alec was a teenage boy with his hormones going wild – _of course _he would like to fuck something. Let's be realistic here for a second – it was completely normal, and when he couldn't do it with Jane because she was adamant about not giving in too soon, he turned to the first pretty slut he saw.

_Heidi. _

After a full week of a crying fit, I was finally able to console Jane with one question: _"Would you rather sleep with a guy who is as virginal as you and Virgin Mary combined, or be with someone experienced who won't finish in about three seconds after hurting you and falling asleep on you afterwards because his stamina is non-existent?"_

Guess what she answered.

Yeah, my thoughts exactly. I probably would have run for the hills if a guy was as pure as me, honestly. Alec would jokingly say: "It will hurt at first, and then the new horizons will open."

Yeah, right. If I find someone as awkward as me, my horizon will reach to the first building, so, no thank you. I'm quite sure that I want someone who knows what he's doing, and no matter what those feminists say, it _is_ different for a girl – the guy is the one getting in, the girl is the one letting him. You know that old saying about skeleton keys and shitty locks? Yeah, my thoughts exactly.

_And you, haters, shut up. _

I need to finish packing anyway, and stop thinking about sex. I swear, besides the morose and depressing thoughts not leaving my mind, sex was the most frequent subject I thought about, especially since I became closer with Alec who constantly talked my ear off about it– _let him practice, he will do better with Jane after that _– and it was myriad of questions swirling and soaring inside my head.

_Will it hurt?_

_Will I bleed?_

_Will I… _come_?_

_Will I regret it afterwards?_

Yeah, a lot of questions, and I wasn't in a hurry for the answers. I will know it when the time comes – I sure as Hell am not planning on being a pretty little flower forever.

_Did you just say a 'pretty little flower'?_

_Ugh, Bella. What's the matter with you?_

God.

I guess this move and my Mother had everything to do with my head and emotions. It was strange seeing and cleaning this house as if I didn't live here for the past ten years – it certainly felt like I didn't. It has never been home, too sterile and cold, lethargic, frigid almost with its clean, flat planes and beige colors with dark hues. The owner didn't let us change anything because this place was fully furnished when Mother decided to rent it. It felt like a hotel, honestly – if you break something, you pay for it. I walked on the eggshells during the whole time I've spent here, which was really hard considering my clumsiness. No, I wasn't an idiot who couldn't play basketball or tennis or volleyball, but I wasn't that talented either – but while I am walking steady on my own two feet without tripping, all is right in the world.

Apart from this being a stranger's home, this city felt... _mine_. I got used to the warm, soft planes of the earth, shadows and stars and sun and beach and ocean. The Forks from my memories had nothing like that, except for the First Beach which was icy cold anyway, and it rained constantly. I've grown to love the desert, hot streets and cool shade, Jane and Alec, though we weren't exactly as close as we could have been – we were friends because we felt like the only normal people in the heap of lunatics at that idiotic preppy school, but in spite of every single thing I've ever said about not having any friends, I did have them, and I will miss them greatly.

I couldn't exactly leave without saying goodbye, so that was the next thing on my agenda – I had to see them and talk to them, to hug Jane and tell Alec that it was time for pulling that fat head of his out of his own ass and seeing what was right in front of him.

_As if that would work. _His head was too big to get out.

But I would never tell Jane that, because as stubborn as she was, she would pull t out with her own nails if needed. Crazy, insane girl with no common sense, I'd say, but as loyal as a dog.

I couldn't help but giggle when I stumbled upon a photo of the two of us on the beach. She was completely buried in sand, the only thing peaking out was her head – and toes – with me hovering over her and cackling like a mad woman. I could see Alec in the background, too, Riley also, and Heidi… ugh, fifteen years old and wearing a bikini made for someone ten years older. What a whore.

Anyway, going through my things felt somehow… cleansing, seeing all that stuff and knowing that some things have to go. And everything was okay before I found my old doll – the one that Dad bought me. It was beautiful. I remember other girls from Forks saying that it was ugly, but it wasn't – with dark, soft curly hair and big brown eyes, smelling like a newborn, it was really a nice doll and I was becoming sentimental. The new me, Bella who didn't give a shit about anything, Bella who kept saying that she was fine, that everything would be okay, Bella who claimed that none of this hurt – she would have thrown it away.

And I couldn't.

I _didn't_.

It was all I had left from Charlie, and… once upon a time, he was a great Dad. I adored him, worshipped him, he was my hero. I could at least admit _that_ before leaving this place and returning to his house, well - to _my_ house.

So I kept it and hid it in my suitcase, holding it for awhile before that, remembering. I loved my childhood, it was the best, all I could have ever asked for – up until that point when everything crashed.

Memories were painful – what would have happened if I had stayed with Dad, if Mom had let me go? What would my life be like?

I couldn't tell.

I wanted to go back to that time so bad, to be that girl again – because I didn't like what I was today. I didn't like the bitterness, the tiredness, the know-it-all attitude, I… I just wanted to be _me_ again. Sure, I may look tough, but I'm not – I never was. _Never_.

I was always the small, pale girl, a bit sickly – well, that's what the parents of my friends were saying when I was a kid - quiet all the time, someone who was able to play by herself for a whole day and be calm and happy, someone with trembling lip and big eyes and huge backpack that threatened to swallow her completely.

Even alone, I always wanted to have someone to talk to, someone who would protect me no matter what. Unlike other people, I've never seen it as a weakness – for me, it was love in its truest form, because how can you trust someone to take care of you, to protect you, to listen to you and guard you without loving them?

You can't. And love is not a weakness, love is… _everything_.

_He_ was love. Puppy love, yes, but love nonetheless.

And I didn't have much of it in my life right now.

I continued packing and humming to myself, looking at every single thing before placing it inside my suitcase or throwing it away – I was throwing away the parts of my life. It was hard, and at one point, I almost wanted to cry. Not because I was one of those obsessive-compulsive hoarders, but because there were so many things I didn't really want to keep, but something kept me from throwing them away – like that doll, for example. It represented my Dad, my _dead_ Dad, and I was unable to cast it away even though he did the same thing to me all those years ago.

_God, I'm in for a therapy…_

While we're still on the subject, did you know that Mom actually tried to make me go to see a shrink?

Yeah, it didn't went well. I got so angry after that so she didn't bring it up again. I mean, she thought I was crazy because I didn't have many friends, because I was creative and quiet? Because I didn't make a mess like other teenagers and because I didn't have a boyfriend? Insane, I tell you. Completely insane, just like she was, but that was a story for another time.

When I've finished all my obligations and chores for the day, I decided to relax a bit, but before I could do so my phone beeped – it was a text from Jane.

_Hey, are you okay? Alec and I heard about your Dad. We're sorry. I know you're not into being a pity party, but you have to know that you're not. We had to say we were sorry. We heard about the move, too – can we see you? We missed you today – J_

Great. Awesome. How did they find out, anyway?

**Don't worry, I'm fine. Sure, you two can come to my place after school if you don't have to study or something like that. **

Two minutes later, another text came.

_Great. I asked Alec, we'll be there. See you in a couple of hours, Swan xP – J _

**Okay. See you guys later. **

I'm not really sure if I wanted them to come – I didn't even think about it, but it was the right thing to do, I guess. Better now then tomorrow, that's for sure – it was time to say goodbye, and I knew that. I didn't want some heart-wrenching separation or Jane's tears – it was for the best to see them today and hang out with them before my departure. Easier, lighter. I didn't like goodbyes, anyway. It brings the bad memories back.

Few hours later, they came – I heard someone knocking at the door and when I opened they were there in all their tired glory, worried and worn out, but obviously happy to see me.

"Long time no see, Swan," Alec grinned before hugging me tightly. I rolled my eyes.

"Shut up, Jackson, it's been a day," I mumbled in his jacket, looking over his shoulder at Jane who stood behind him.

She looked at me cautiously, but relaxed a little bit and smiled before attacking Alec. "He couldn't share those perverted thoughts of his without you," she said sarcastically, winking.

Alec snorted and flipped her the bird. "Shut it, little one, you have no idea what you're talking about," he retorted and let me go.

She frowned. "Do not call me little one again, got it? I'll cut your balls off so that slut of yours won't have what to suck."

"Heidi is not-"

"Guys, guys, come on in. Enough," I chuckled and moved aside so they could enter, closing the door behind them. I could hear them bickering quietly while they were going into the living room, and I had to roll my eyes. They were so perfect for each other, but that moron of Alec was so clueless and oblivious that he didn't see the truth standing right in front of him. It was refreshing, seeing them like that – they've already decided not to treat me like a fragile, hurt little girl, and I felt an immense gratitude because of that. I didn't like feeling weak, and they knew that.

I offered them a drink when they sat, and Alec took a beer –_ of course_ – and Jane politely chose a coke. It became silent after that, the only sounds coming from Jane's quiet and Alec's not-so-quiet drink sipping.

Awkward.

"So…"

"So…"

Jane and I started at the same time, and Alec looked at us as if we were mad. We laughed after that and relieved some tension.

"_So_, what's up?" he interrupted and looked around. "I see you have everything packed. Leaving that fast without saying goodbye?"

"Alec!" Jane hissed and slapped his arm.

"What?"

"Don't be so insensitive!"

I smiled. Actually, that was what I liked the most about Alec – his sincerity.

"It's fine, Jane," I said, sighing. "Yeah, Mom's been kinda adamant about packing everything for today, so I had to do it. As soon as she heard about Dad, she found a new job in Seattle to lessen some of our expenses. She told me about the move yesterday so I had a little bit of a fight with her - nothing that she didn't deserve, anyway," I muttered bitterly, and I could see them both shifting awkwardly in their seats. I wasn't someone who talked about family problems – I tended to keep my life to myself.

"Oh, and by the way, I was going to call you both tomorrow, but you guys kinda went ahead and did it for me," I confessed and shrugged. They seemed somehow uncomfortable for a brief moment, but then Jane decided to break the silence.

"We called as soon as we heard. History teacher told us about you today, and we found out that someone had shoot your Dad and that he died."

Did he _have_ to put it _that_ way?

I looked at Jane and saw that her thoughts were probably similar to mine.

"You're such an idiot, Alec," she said disapprovingly, clenching her teeth.

He glowered at her before looking down and whispering, "Sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

"Go watch the game or something," she muttered, flipping him off. "It's not like you want to be here for this conversation."

"So true," he mumbled, shaking his head. "Sorry, Bella. I'm not that good with emotional stuff. I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry, and that we're both here for you if you need anything."

I smirked. "Go watch the game, Alec. The beer is in the fridge."

"Thanks."

As soon as he left, Jane turned back to me and observed me warily before sighing quietly.

"He's such a moron," she said annoyed, coming closer to me and speaking in a hushed voice. "Now, tell me what you really feel," she whispered, clutching my shoulders and looking at me carefully, as if I was about to break. She was cautious, way too careful and serious, and I didn't like that. I didn't want anyone's pity, especially not hers – I didn't want to be _that_ girl, the one whose father had recently died. It wasn't me. It _was_, but… not like _that_. I'm not some pathetic person who would do anything for attention.

I shrugged.

"I'm fine, I guess," I answered, releasing myself from her hold and meeting her eyes. "I'm okay. I mean, you know the history behind our relationship, so… it's not like I've had much to lose. You know I didn't see him that often, and… maybe I'm still in some kind of shock, but I don't miss him." _Right now_.

She nodded compassionately and took my hand. "I know. I don't really know what to say – I mean, no matter how much my family is twisted and awful, I love them, and I really can't imagine anything happening to one of them, so… this is not something that can go away with a few words, you know?"

"Yeah."

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

I shrugged, again. "Not sure. There is nothing to talk about, anyway. He died, and it's all there is to it. I'm not going to rehash it and think about it all the time, or remember…" I trailed off, because I truly didn't want to remember. I've had enough of that for a lifetime.

"I understand. So… when are you leaving?"

The change of subject was sudden, abrupt, but it was better that way. I let it slide.

"Tomorrow, probably. I've packed my bags and… well, we should leave tomorrow. I'm not so sure that I want to leave, you know? I mean, this place has been my home for the past nine years, and no matter how bad everything was, I've gotten used to it. It's strange… leaving is strange. I don't know. Maybe I'm just getting emotional," I snorted and shook my head, trying to clear it.

"Bella, it's fine," she said. "Even if you are getting emotional, it's completely normal, you know that. It's okay to cry sometimes – it helps, trust me. If you don't, you're just going to crack later when the problems bottle up."

I couldn't explain that it wasn't that I didn't want to cry – I just _couldn't_. It wasn't like I was suppressing my feelings about the move or my Dad's death, I just… didn't feel a thing. Everything was flat, empty, foreign. My head was spinning.

"I know, but I can't, it's… never mind. Anyway, what happened at school? It tends to get interesting when I'm not there."

She giggled. "Nothing special. Heidi was a bitch, as usual. Such a whore, that one. Did you know that she actually tried to flirt with Mr. Dwyer? I couldn't believe it, honestly! She got a B- on the last essay, so she came on to him – can you believe that?"

I laughed. Yeah, I could totally believe that. Mr. Dwyer was a new professor of English Lit, a young one at that. He was twenty-four, just gotten out of college, articulate and smart and every single girl in my class – except for me – went crazy about him. Personally, I didn't see the appeal, but what did I know?

Oh, by the way, he was married.

"Oh my God, what did she do?"

Jane snorted. "Thrust her tits up his nose and said that she would do _anything_ to improve her note and her behavior in his class, and then she leaned in and repeated 'anything' in a really husky voice. Poor guy lost his mind!" she cackled, and the mental image of Heidi's act made me giggle.

"Oh _God_. How did you see that, anyway? Did she do it in front of the class, or…?"

"No, she did it afterwards. I forgot my bag in the classroom so I had to come back, and there she was, with her tits in his face. He ran away like he had peed himself, you know?"

"Poor man."

"Yeah, right? Even the teachers fear her."

I could comprehend that – Heidi was almost unstoppable when she wanted something, ready to walk over the dead in order to do anything she wanted. Yeah, fucking a teacher wasn't at all that serious.

"Well of course they do when she's such a slut. Soon she'll say that Mr. Dwyer molested her. I can't stand her, ugh. Disgusting."

"Tell me about it. I had to watch her and Alec playing tongue hockey during the day and it's just… ugh. Why can't she just drop dead? It would make the world a better place."

"I can kill her for you, you know. I'm leaving the state anyway."

She looked at me for a moment before bursting into laughter. "You're one crazy chic, you know that? I'll miss you so much, Bella," she shook her head and sighed. The atmosphere became serious all of a sudden. "I know we weren't as close as I would have liked, but… it was great anyway. You're the only one who ever understood me, apart from Alec, but he's just… yeah," she mumbled and laughed a little bit, squeezing me tightly. "I'm going to miss our crazy conversations and stupid things and your secret obsession with sex, 'cause, let's be honest, you will be such a little nympho when you pop that cherry of yours-"

"Hey!" I pushed her away and slapped her hand a bit, but I couldn't contain a laugh that bubbled inside my throat. "You will be worse than me, trust me."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, when that idiot over there opens his eyes," she mumbled and we both turned around to look at Alec who was almost glued to the TV. We exchanged the freaked out looks and she almost face-palmed. "Oh God, I don't even know why I bother with him, anyway," she groaned and shook her head, causing me to smile.

"Because he's a hot, cool and smart guy with no big faults apart from his profound love for school hookers?" I raised my eyebrow tauntingly and she snorted.

"Yeah, right. He's acting like a child most of the time, and he's not that mature, but… he's good, you know? Sincere and honest, with no hidden intentions. Everything is out in the open with him, and that is something I like. I mean, I know he would tell me if my ass looks fat in jeans or if I should throw away some of my shirts," she smirked. "And he's somehow… uncorrupted, I guess? With no bad thoughts and plans. He lifts my spirit and makes me smile and- sorry, how did this turned into my obsessive need to rant about Alec?"

I had to laugh. She was so random at the times, and this Alec thing was so common that it stopped bothering me a long time ago.

"Come on, you can tell me everything. We won't see each other for a while, so this is your last time to spill you deepest, darkest secrets to me," I joked. "I need to go soon, anyway, so…"

"Yeah, I know," she murmured, and I almost hit myself when I realized that once again I have ruined everything. "I'm going to be a bit lonely, you know? Alec is always with Heidi, and you know the rest of them sheep…"

I giggled. "Yeah, I know. I'm not exactly looking forward to being a shiny new toy, especially with my Dad's status there, you know? It's a really small place where everybody knows everybody, and… I'm just going to barge in there, so… you know me, I'm not the best at dealing with people," I mumbled and bowed my head, annoyed with myself. I hated showing weakness, especially in front of other people, but Jane was something else – she had cried so many times on my shoulder, because of Alec, because of her Mom, because of her Dad, so it wasn't that weird with her. It was… comfortable, I guess. Comforting and normal, open.

"You're going to be just fine, I'm not worried about you at all ," she smiled. "Everything is going to be alright, you'll see, so don't look at this move like it's a bad thing, I mean, who knows? Maybe it will be the best thing you have ever done."

I snorted. "Yeah, right," I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes. As if.

_As if_, on the other hand…

No. Don't think about _him_, don't talk about _him_, don't say anything about _him_ until you _see_ him – who knows, maybe he doesn't live there anymore, maybe he died in a car accident, maybe he moved away to Africa, for all you know. Maybe he's grown up into a gangly, awkward teenager with horse teeth and braces with the personality of a dead dandelion.

_And maybe he's there, alive and well and more beautiful then ever, as caring and as protective and as _good_ and- _

_Yeah, and the only thing he needs is _you_, right? _Bella Swan_, to spice up his life, to make it a living Hell. You are a walking disaster. You are a fucking Dementor, that is how much you devour happiness. Shut up, Swan, and pull your head out of your ass. See the world around you, because it is as meaningless as ever, and this is just one horror more…_

"…Maybe you'll find your Prince Charming and he would treat you like a Lady in front of everyone else and like a Queen in the bedroom, and-"

I had absolutely no heart to tell her that I was more into Dark Knight, but it was my problem and my stupidity.

And I definitely had _every brain_ to never, _ever_ tell her that I was more into being someone's whore in the bedroom than a Queen. She surely wouldn't appreciate the knowledge that almost every single one of my fantasies – apart from my first time – was to be dominated by someone. Sure, I am just a teenager, but I kinda know what I want. And I read a lot. A LOT. That's all I can say, because, in theory, I know everything. Practice on the other hand… nothing, zero, none, but that will come with time. I hope.

"… And he will love you and cherish you and-"

"Honey, I hate Jane Austen."

She stopped talking, and her face alone almost made me roll on the floor. She looked stupefied, as if I had slapped her or told her that her father was gay.

"Fuck you, asshole! You're such an asshole, Bella, I swear."

I burst into laughter. "No shit, Sherlock!" I cackled. "With who were you hanging out for the past two years?"

"With an insufferable moron, obviously. Idiot."

I giggled like a little girl, I just had to. Jane and Alec were the only people who could make me forget about all the bad things going on with my life – Jane, because of her lack of verbal filter and infatuation with Alec, and Alec, because of his total obliviousness and horniness and to-the-core-goodness.

"Oh, don't be like that, sugar. You know you love me."

She tried to hide the eye roll, but couldn't, so she just crossed her arms. "Yeah, just add XOXO and you're a real Gossip Girl, bitch."

"Come on, Jane, you know I don't watch that shit! Too much incest and partner-swapping for me."

"Shut up, I know you have hots for Chuck. I saw you slobbering all over him while we were watching re-runs in my room."

"Okay, _maybe_, but not because of his looks, ugh, I'm _so_ not into that. And he's not tall, so… oh, but his _personality_ on the other hand…" _the way he would do anything for Blair… _yeah, a true romantic, I guess, but without Austen thingies.

"You're all into alpha male douche bags, aren't you, crazy little shit?"

"Hey, what's with the swearing? It's usually my thing!"

"I don't know, I tend to react emotionally when my friend is moving away across the country."

That kind of ruined the mood.

We went silent, again.

"I'm really going to miss you, Bella. I hope that you'll fit in in there, because you deserve it. I'm not saying that it's going to be easy, but… I guess you're not the only one who'll have to find new friends," she looked down and frowned a little bit.

I wasn't a big fan of PDA, but I had to hug her tightly. I'm going to miss her, and that is inevitable. No matter what, she was there for me and I for her.

"Take care of Alec, okay? We both know you're going to be the one wearing the pants."

She giggled at my remark and snorted a little bit. "I'll keep you informed, don't worry. I mean, you _will_ call, right?" she asked with an expectant look, but I never answered - just smiled lightly and looked away.

I didn't want to make that promise again and not fulfill it. I made it all those years ago and it stayed the only one I couldn't keep.

Because, every time I say I'll call, I never do. And it's never my fault.

* * *

><p><em>Nine years ago<em>

_We were hiding in my backyard, inside the circular hedge surrounding us, sitting on a bench beneath my treehouse. Neither one of us had anything to say – we just sat there, quietly, without looking at each other as if we have never met before, as if we were strangers, which we most certainly weren't. I wasn't used to this silence with him, because he always had something to say – something new to tell me about, something to explain or do. He would always make me laugh and smile and I would hug him as if my life depended on it, because that was how much I loved him. He was my light, my whole world – up until that moment, he was the only one who cared. _

_I couldn't say that my Mom loved me – she was hollow, shallow all the time, not speaking, not blinking, ignoring me, and Dad… well, Dad adored me, but he was never around – his job took so much time away, and I was well aware of it even at tender age of seven. _

_But _him_… he was always there. Always there to pick me up if I scrape my knees and catch me before the fall, literally. He was everything, my whole world. He was the only friend I had. _

_And I'm leaving, I know it, he knows it, the whole town knows, and that's why we're like this, quiet, unsure, staring into nothing, detached from everything. _

_I didn't want that. I didn't want that behavior and silence. I wanted his hugs. They were the best. Better than Dad's, even, and that was saying a lot._

God, and just to think that I was seven and feeling all of that…

"_You're leaving?" he whispered after awhile, looking down and feeling insecure. I didn't like seeing him like this – he was the stronger one, the older one. Me, on the other hand… _

"_Yes..." I trailed of, not knowing what to say. Really, what could have been said? My parents said everything instead of me, and I was just a kid back then – if your Mom said 'Jump', you'd ask 'How high?', because that was all you knew, apart from throwing tantrums and acting like, well, a kid. Which you were, by the way. _

"_But… why? Did I do something?" he wondered, locking his eyes to the ground and clenching his fingers before running them through his hair. He looked… _hurt_, which was so strange to me back then – he was so grown up, so smart, so… different from all the other boys – I worshipped him, adored him, but now I knew better despite the strength of that memory – we were kids. We were a pair of strange, rejected kids, and that was why we had found one another – two outsiders sticking together, it wasn't that weird. _

_Only… that wasn't the sole reason. He was everything. Period. _

_And that was why I had to explain it to him – I couldn't just leave him thinking that it was his fault. _

"_What? No, of course not!" I exclaimed and jumped off of the bench, trying to meet his eyes. _

_He still wouldn't look at me. "But… why would you leave then?"_

_I sighed. He knew all of this, of course, but if I had to repeat it a hundred times, I'd do it in a heartbeat. _

"_My Mom and Dad… they're fighting again. I guess they're divorcing. Mom said so yesterday, and Dad… well, he said he wanted to talk, try and make things right, but she said she didn't want to do that. She packed our bags, and… and we're leaving."_

"_And your Dad? What about him?"_

"_I don't know. He's staying, I guess. Mom said I'll be able to visit you over the summer when we settle down and find a place to live, but…"_

"_But _what_?"_

"_I don't know, E, I don't know! I don't want to go! I want to stay here with you, but Mom…"_

"_Mom won't leave you with your Dad."_

"_Yeah. She wants me to go with her, and he… he didn't say anything! He let her pack my bags and put them in our c-car a-a-and t-take me away! But I don't wanna go, I don't wanna go!" I started to cry. It was so humiliating, but it made him hug me._

"_B…" he tried to console me, but nothing worked. I just hugged him harder, and sobbed. It was obvious that he was feeling a bit awkward – I mean, he had a crying girl in his hands, what do you do with those?_

"_E, I don't wanna go!"_

"_When are you leaving?" he whispered, caressing my hair. It was amazing how sensitive he was to other people's feelings – I couldn't imagine any other nine year old boy consoling a seven year old girl. _

_I sniffed, hiccupping quietly. _

"_I don't know…? She said as soon as possible. She doesn't want to spend a minute more in that house. I heard her. She said so. And Daddy…" I lost my thought in a long sob, because – it was _Daddy_! How can we leave Daddy alone? I didn't even like Mommy that much, I wanted to stay with _him_ and Daddy and Esme and Carlisle and a-and I didn't want to go! I didn't want to leave Forks! I loved Forks! _

_But soon I realized that there was nothing I could do. It was decided – I was leaving, and that was it. No compromise. _

"_B, you'll call me, okay? You'll be here for the summer, maybe my Mom and Dad will let you stay in my room for a while," he murmured and hugged me tighter, his lanky hands enveloping me completely. He wasn't much taller than I was, but he still felt stronger and somehow tougher. He was a boy. _

_I nodded, curling myself into him. I always craved love, touch, even as a kid. I don't know why, but it was everything to me. It made me feel safe, secure, protected, like nothing could harm me or hurt me. "Yes, I will call you."_

"_Promise?" he asked, still serious, and gently pushed me away to look me in the eyes. I wanted to hug him still, but I knew I had to answer. _

"_Yes," I said solemnly, almost raising my pinky to do so. He smiled. _

"_You swear?" he said again, and I almost had the urge to roll my eyes, because what kind of question was that? _Of course_ I will call him! _

"_Yes!"_

_He didn't give up. "You're absolutely, one hundred percent certain?" he asked jokingly, and I could feel his fingers on my ribs, tickling me. I writhed and tried to free myself, laughing all the time. _

"_Yes, I am! Stop teasing me!" I giggled. "Stop, stop, stop, it tickles, no, E!"_

_It took him awhile to let me go, and when he did, I greedily gasped for air. _

"_Oh, shut it, you're smiling again," he winked and grabbed my hand before pulling me out of our hideout. _

"_Yeah, I do. Thank you," I breathed and blushed – ugh – clutching his fingers tightly. _

"_No problem. Wanna get ice cream? My treat."_

"_Sure," I answered, deciding to forget everything before it was completely necessary to think about it. He led me across the street to the store and smiled._

"_Hazelnut, right? Waffle cone?"_

"_Yeah."_

_After we bought some ice cream, we returned to my treehouse. He helped me climb, and we both sat in silence, eating our ice creams while thinking and contemplating. _

"_Now seriously, B… you'll call, right?"_

_Oh, not that question again. _

_I rolled my eyes. _

"_Yeah, I will. I promise."_

* * *

><p>I broke my promise. I lied. I fucking <em>lied<em>, thanks to my mother.

I never called Edward Cullen again.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thank you for reading. I won't bug you anymore, I promise. Or I'll try. *snickers***

**Oh, yeah. Beta? I'm seriously going to beg from now on, but if you see errors or anything weird, feel free to tell me. I'm here to learn, anyway. **


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